


Always (Forever)

by Golden_Asp



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, I am not a doctor, I solemnly swear I may have stabbed him but he doesn't die, I stabbed Ignis again, Ignoct White Day Gift Exchange 2018, M/M, Protective Noctis Lucis Caelum, Sorry no smut this time, This got longer than i expected, This time anyway, Verse 2, introspection but while talking out loud, no crystal no magic no curatives is bad when you're stabbed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 04:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14324286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Asp/pseuds/Golden_Asp
Summary: The sun was back, the king was alive.  It was enough for Ignis, and Noctis, until a terrible injury forces Noctis to make some confessions, mostly because there's no way Ignis can hear him while he's in a coma.Right?





	Always (Forever)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sutera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sutera/gifts).



> For Sutera! I was a pinch hitter for this, and I hope I hit it out of the park, or at least got a triple (maybe with an RBI? Sorry, I work in baseball). Thank for letting me stab Ignis again. I really enjoy that. I hope you like it!!!  
> This got longer than I thought it would, but I'm pretty happy with it. 
> 
> not beta-ed.

The sun hung in the sky, a molten gem that the people would never take for granted again. It had been only months since the king had banished the darkness. Ignis was just thankful that Noctis was alive. His plan had worked. Ten years of planning, of praying (though not to the gods that were the true cause of all of his heartache), of hoping, and of fighting had finally come to fruition. 

Noctis was alive.

Ignis smiled at the king, walking just ahead of him. They were in a park, a place that hadn’t seen too much destruction in the fall of the city. It had been relatively easy to get the park cleared, and Noctis had renamed it a memorial garden, for those lost in the long night.

Rebuilding was slow, in the city and in the surrounding countryside. Years of darkness had severely damaged the soil, the people. Even now, Ignis found his eyes sensitive to light.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. Noctis was alive.

Noctis grinned at Ignis over his shoulder as they walked past a copse of trees. Ignis felt that familiar tightness in his chest at Noctis’ smile. For as long as he could remember, they had been dancing around this _thing_ between them.

They had been aware of it from the time they were teens, dancing around their feelings, Ignis never letting on how he felt (damn his propriety). He told himself that it would be easier when Noctis was to be wed (it wasn’t), so he buried his feelings. Being close to Noctis was enough, being allowed to care for him was enough.

That’s what he kept telling himself as they grew up. 

Then word came of the treaty, of Noctis’ marriage, and Ignis locked himself in a bathroom and cried. Then he buried those feelings and went on with preparing for their trip.

Altissia. Ignis looked up at the sky, letting the sun warm his face. He still had nightmares about that day, about the visions Pryna had bequeathed him, about Noctis pinned to the throne.

He felt a hand brush his arm and he started, turning to face Noctis with wide eyes.

“Majesty?”

“Back with us?” Noctis asked quietly.

Ignis took a shuddering breath, mourning the loss of warmth from Noctis’ hand.

“Ah, of course, Majesty. Forgive me,” Ignis said.

Noctis smiled at him. “Nothing to forgive.”

Ignis nodded, swallowing hard. If he was braver, he’d reach across the chasm between them and take Noctis’ hand, lacing their fingers together.

But he wasn’t. He was terrified that Noctis wouldn’t feel the same way, or pull away, and Ignis didn’t think he could bear it.

He had meant to tell Noctis his feelings when the king came out of the Crystal, ten years after saving Ignis’ life in Gralea. 

The sight of Noctis standing before him had robbed him of his speech.

Ignis’ plan had succeeded. Ten years of planning, of begging, of doing…unspeakable things to ensure Noctis’ survival had come to fruition. 

Noctis had survived, but he was different. He came back stronger, harder, with a depth to him that scared Ignis a little. Ignis found himself unable to tell Noctis his feelings.

So he watched over his king, cooked for him, helped him rebuild the city.

And he told himself it was enough.

He sighed, following his king again as Noctis walked through the park, stopping to look at the flowers that had started blooming.

Ignis went still as the bushes rustled behind the king. Wildlife hadn’t started coming back yet; Sania and Prompto were spearheading that effort, and he knew the park didn’t have more than a few resilient squirrels and birds.

Nothing that could move the bushes that much.

“Noctis!” Ignis yelled, drawing his daggers out of his sheath (he did miss the armory sometimes, it had been so much easier to carry weapons. But there was no more magic, no more armory.)

He kicked one dagger, barely noticing as it embedded itself in one of the attacker’s throats. He cursed, rolling forward and driving Noctis to the ground. He lunged forward, tearing the dagger out of the dead man’s throat. 

That was another thing he missed; the weapons didn’t return to hand like they used to.

There were four men, three now with one dead. They had weapons and knew how to use them. Ignis thought they had been hunters, once. He spun, guarding Noctis as the king drew his sword.

“Death to the dawn!” one of the men yelled, throwing something.

He saw something flash through the air, the sun glinting off metal. It reminded him of when he had brimmed with the power of kings, how Ardyn had seemed to move slow, how each particle of air had moved around him, bending to his will.

He didn’t even think. He threw himself in front of Noctis, pushing the king back down.

“Ignis!” Noctis screamed. 

Ignis stood before the king, facing the three attackers. He focused on Noctis’ scream. He had heard that scream once before, when he had lain before the Crystal with his skin charred.

He heard heavy footsteps and Gladio and Cor’s shouts. They had been following at a distance, too much of a distance this time. The three remaining attackers fled, leaving the body of their comrade behind.

Ignis looked down at his chest. Everything seemed to be moving slower than usual, and he was mildly surprised to see a knife embedded in his chest.

He crumbled to the ground, staring at the sky. The clouds were moving fast, he thought. He felt a moment of panic when everything was shadowed out as Noctis leaned over him.

Ignis tried to say his name, reaching a trembling hand for Noctis’ face. His king had tears in his eyes. That wasn’t right. Noctis shouldn’t be sad. Noctis had a cut on his cheek, blood staining his beard. 

“No-nnngh,” Ignis groaned.

“Shhhh, don’t talk,” Noctis whispered.

“Fo-forgive me,” Ignis whispered. He wasn’t fast enough. He should’ve been faster.

“Ignis, shut up,” Noctis said, angrily wiping the blood and tears off his face. He was aware of Cor dropping to his knees on the other side of Ignis, studying the blade in Ignis’ chest.

“They got away,” Gladio said shortly, jogging back. He cursed when he saw Ignis, cradled in Noctis’ lap. It brought back memories of finding Ignis nearly dead in Gralea.

“Ambulance is on the way,” Cor said tightly. The blade was high in Ignis’ chest, and blood bubbled out of Ignis’ mouth with every labored breath.

Noctis had never truly cursed the lack of magic before. It had taken some getting used to, but they hadn’t expected something like this. Without magic, the potions and elixirs were just energy drinks. They would do nothing to help now.

He had no Crystal to beg another boon from, no gods to plead for Ignis’ life.

He could hear sirens getting closer, and more Crownsguard members flooded the park. Cor directed them to start cataloging the body. Maybe there would be clues as to who the attackers were.

Noctis didn’t care about that. He only cared about Ignis, limp and heavy in his arms. He couldn’t lose Ignis. He _couldn’t_. He didn’t think he could be king without Ignis. Ignis was everything to him, and he had never told him.

Noctis bit back a cry at the realization. He always took Ignis for granted. He had when they were younger. He had always known Ignis would be beside him, helping him, caring for him, (loving him). He remembered waking up in Altissia, Gladio and Prompto at the end of the bed.

When Ravus told him Ignis had gone to Gralea with Ardyn, Noctis had panicked. They (he) had to get Ignis before Ardyn did something terrible to him. He had been prepared to steal an airship and get there himself when Ravus had offered to take them.

Seeing Ignis laying before the Crystal, skin charred and hot to the touch, Ring of the Lucii burning on his finger…it had broken something in Noctis. He’d thought Ignis was dead, that they were too late.

The Crystal had granted him the power to save Ignis, to watch his skin swallow most of the scars on his body, and then Noctis had gone to embrace his destiny. He had gone with the knowledge that no matter what, Ignis would live. 

He had been prepared to die for Ignis, for his people, for his star, but Ignis had fought the gods, the old kings, and the Accursed and won. Somehow, Noctis was here, alive, and now Ignis was dying.

If the gods had still been around he’d curse them into oblivion. 

When the EMTs showed up, Noctis clung to Ignis, afraid to let him go. If he did, Ignis would die. He knew that.

Cor had to physically restrain him so they could load Ignis onto the ambulance. Noctis spat and snarled, struggling in the older man’s grasp. One of the EMTs looked at Noctis.

“Your Majesty, you need stitches in your cheek.”

“We’ll bring him,” Gladio said. He had called Prompto, and the other man would meet them at the hospital. 

Noctis strained, eyes following the ambulance as it sped into the city, red and blue lights reflecting off a mostly dead city.

Ignis’ name died on his lips, ash in his throat.

FFXV

Ignis was rushed into surgery the moment the ambulance arrived at the makeshift hospital. It was one of the few buildings near the center of the city that hadn’t been completely destroyed during the faux treaty signing. Short, squat, and ugly, the building held the few doctors that had survived the long night.

Every doctor but the one stationed in Lestallum worked on Ignis.

Noctis sat in one of the rooms, Gladio and Prompto flanking the doors. A nurse stood nervously before the king, needle and thread in trembling in his hands. He never thought he would be treating the king, especially while said king was a nervous wreck for the man in surgery. 

“Give me that,” Gladio said roughly, taking the sutures and needle from the nurse. He gloved up and knelt in front of Noctis. The nurse bolted out of the room, unable to deal with the heavy atmosphere.

“This is gonna scar,” Gladio said shortly.

Noctis looked at him, blue eyes dead. He didn’t care if it scarred.

Gladio shaved Noctis’ face, cleaning the wound. Noctis hissed, jerking back from him. 

“If you hadn’t scared the poor nurse senseless I wouldn’t have to stitch your face up,” Gladio said, holding the needle in a flame to sterilize it.

“I want to see Ignis,” Noctis said flatly.

“How do you think Iggy’s gonna feel when he comes out of surgery and sees your pretty face all mangled?” Prompto said.

Noctis closed his eyes. When Ignis came out of surgery, not if. He clung to that. Ignis would be okay. He had to be.

He felt the tug of the needle through his skin. The nurse had managed to give Noctis a local anesthetic, at least.

Gladio’s stitches were surprisingly small and neat. The scar would be minimal. “How’d you learn this?” Noctis asked after Gladio tied off the last stitch.

“In the field we had to take care of our own wounds,” Gladio said simply. 

Noctis nodded.

The three men sat there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

FFXV

Ignis was in surgery a very long time. With each passing tick of the old clock above the door, Noctis felt more and more nauseous. He wrung his hands nervously, staring at his bloodstained pants.

Cor walked in some time later, looking exhausted. 

“Marshal,” Gladio said, giving up his chair. Cor dropped into it.

“Do we know who they were?” Gladio asked.

Cor ran his hand down his face. “Hunters, once.”

Gladio and Prompto didn’t seem surprised. Noctis was.

“What the hell? Why would hunters attack Ignis?”

“They weren’t attacking Ignis. They were attacking you,” Gladio said bluntly. 

Noctis’ eyes flicked up to Gladio and then back to Cor.

Cor sighed. “Not everyone is happy to see the sun, your majesty.”

“That’s just…why?” Noctis asked, bewildered. He didn’t know much of what it had been like those ten years, but from what little people would tell him (many didn’t like discussing it), it had been horrible. Why would people want the darkness to continue?

“There were those who fed on fear, on the terror they could spread,” Cor said. “They were bandits and rapists and murderers, using the relative lawlessness of the time to induce terror wherever they went. They were worse than the daemons.”

Gladio nodded, leaning against the wall. “We’ve been hearing rumors of a group of these…nightcrawlers moving closer, but we didn’t realize they were in the city. That is our failure, your majesty. We will track these men down. The body they left behind will be useful.”

“The guard won’t rest until we have these men in custody,” Cor said.

Noctis nodded. He would’ve had a hard believing what they were saying if Ignis wasn’t in surgery. He remembered what the one had yelled just before throwing the dagger; ‘death to the dawn.’

It seemed that Gladio and Cor were right.

The door opened again and one of the doctors walked in. Noctis shot to his feet, heart pounding wildly in his chest. The doctor looked exhausted. It had been nearly seven hours.

“Ignis?” Noctis asked fearfully.

“He is out of surgery,” the doctor said. “His left lung collapsed, and there was other internal trauma. We had to remove a portion of the lung.”

“But he’ll be okay, right?” Prompto asked worriedly.

The doctor was silent for a beat. “He’s not out of the woods. We have him in a medically induced coma.”

Noctis felt the world sway violently, and he stumbled into Gladio’s arms. Gladio held him up.

“I have to see him,” Noctis gasped.

“Majesty—” the doctor began.

“Now!” Noctis bellowed, causing Prompto and the doctor to flinch.

“This way. He’s in the intensive care unit,” the doctor said, hurriedly leading them through the falsely bright halls. Gladio kept his hand at the small of Noctis’ back, ready to steady him if needed.

The doctor led them to a room and walked in. He started checking over Ignis. Noctis stood in the door, suddenly terrified to move closer.

Ignis seemed much smaller than his six feet in the bed. His hair was limp, covering his forehead and one eye. His chest rose and fell steadily, a machine breathing for him, the tube down his throat. He was pale, the scars on his face standing out violently against his blood drained flesh. The heart monitor bleeped slowly, every chime announcing that Ignis was still alive. 

Gladio half pushed Noctis forward. Noctis stumbled, catching himself on the foot of the bed. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ignis.

He reached a tentative hand forward, touching Ignis’ hand. It was cool and dry.

“Iggy?” Noctis whispered, voice cracking.

There was no response. Noctis sat on the little wheeled stool, holding Ignis’ hand in both of his.

“Ignis, please,” Noctis whispered. He didn’t care that Ignis was in a coma, he just wanted Ignis to open his eyes. He wanted to see those green eyes again.

“Ignis,” Noctis said, biting back a cry.

It was the first time Ignis had never responded to him.

“Everyone out,” Noctis said roughly.

“Noc—” Gladio started.

“OUT!” Noctis yelled, looking up at them. Gladio grabbed Prompto by the arm and dragged him from the room, the doctor and Cor on their heels.

Noctis pressed Ignis’ hand against his face, heedless of the pain that flared from the cut on his face. His tears burned his eyes.

He let himself sob, silently begging Ignis to wake up.

FFXV

Gladio dragged him out at the end of the night. Noctis fought him, but Gladio and Prompto overpowered him.

“You need to sleep,” Prompto said.

“I’ll sleep here,” Noctis snapped.

“No, you won’t,” Gladio said. “You stink, your clothes are covered in blood, and you look like shit. You have to make a statement and you can’t do it looking like death warmed over.”

“I’m not leaving Ignis,” Noctis half growled.

“Ignis isn’t going anywhere,” Gladio said, hands on Noctis’ shoulders. “I know it’s hard, Noctis, I really do. But we can’t do anything for Ignis right now. It’s up to him.”

Noctis looked away, eyes gritty from all the tears. “I don’t want him to be alone,” he said hoarsely.

Gladio nodded. “Iris is on her way. She’ll stay with him. Is that okay?”

Noctis took a shuddering breath, looking back at Ignis’ room. He nodded jerkily. They waited until Iris arrived, and Noctis bore her hug as best he could. He thanked her for staying with Ignis, and reluctantly let Gladio drive him back to the Citadel.

He showered, changed, and addressed the people about what had happened. Cor took over at one point, telling them about the search for the attackers. Noctis disappeared back into the Citadel.

He didn’t sleep that night.

FFXV

Noctis was at the hospital every day, for hours, until Gladio forcefully dragged him away.

There was no change in Ignis.

FFXV

A week passed. Ignis was mostly stable, his vital signs improving slowly.

A second week. Still no sign of the men who had attacked them in the park.

Noctis sat with Ignis, holding his hand as had become his custom.

“Ignis…I don’t know if you can hear me. Maybe it’s best that you can’t. Remember Gralea?” Noctis snorted at his own question. “Of course you do. I know you still have nightmares about it. So do I. It was…awful. Seeing you there. I thought you were dead, and I was prepared to die to be with you. I was an idiot. Maybe I’ve always been an idiot. I was so afraid to lose you. I took you for granted, from the time we were kids. I always knew you would be there. You took the blame for me so many times when we were kids. Remember that painting of Ifrit that I painted glasses on and then you told my dad you did it, because even gods sometimes needed glasses.

“I found that painting the other day. Dad actually kept the thing, and didn’t have it repaired. Together we ruined an ancient painting and my dad thought it was hilarious. I hung it back up.”

Noctis took a breath, squeezing Ignis’ hand. He always hoped there would be an answering squeeze. 

There never was.

“And then when we were teens and I was the moodiest little shit in the world. I’m sorry for all the crap I put you through. I’m amazed you didn’t shove me out a window sometimes. I know Gladio wanted you to. Hell, I know Gladio wanted to do the shoving half the time. You were always there for me, even when I threw a can of hair gel at your face and yelled at you. I think you got back at me for that by making me eat vegetables. Totally unfair.”

Noctis fell silent for a moment, reaching up to brush a strand of Ignis’ hair back.

“And then when we left for Altissia, when Dad was killed and the city fell…you were always there for me, for all of us, really. You were so strong and sometimes I hated you for it. I wanted you to break down, to show emotion, but you were always the strong one. I knew I could count on you to have my back.”

Noctis didn’t even notice the tears rolling down his face. 

“In Altissia, I remember watching Luna die, and I remember hoping that you were okay. And then nothing, nothing until I woke up and you were gone. I had no idea what you were thinking, going with Ardyn that day. I just knew I had to get to you. I thought I would have the chance to save you for once, and I guess I did, but…

“You were the one that saved me. I didn’t realize the…extent of what you’d done until I was in the Crystal. Bahamut showed me, or maybe it was the ring, I don’t know. But, Ignis, I saw what you did, I heard what you said.”

_“This world means nothing to me. Do with it as you wish.”_

Noctis could almost hear him, and he remembered the shock of Ignis’ words spearing through him.

_“But I refuse to let Noct sacrifice his life to save ours. I won’t let you take him away!”_

Noctis closed his eyes, memories that weren’t his—‘gifted’ to him by the ring—rushing through his mind.

_“Even if it costs my own life to save him…I will pay that price!”_

Noctis felt the phantom burn of the ring on his finger, of the power rushing through him.

“I didn’t understand it, not fully,” Noctis said after a while, Ignis’ hand still in his. “I could…I felt your emotions, Ignis. How could I tell you that? How could I tell you that I had been in your head for the most…crazy, intimate, death defying moment of your life and you did it to save me. It scared me, I can admit that now. The very… _depth_ of your feelings was…gods, Ignis. It was beautiful and terrifying.

“Sometimes I wonder what you would’ve done if I had died. Is that incredibly morbid of me? I dream about it, sometimes. And I hate myself for it. For wondering if you would’ve lived for me if I asked…or if you would’ve joined me. I could never tell you this if you were awake. You’d kick my ass.”

Noctis opened his eyes, half expecting to see Ignis’ green ones looking back at him.

They were still closed. The only sound the heart monitor and the machine keeping Ignis breathing.

“I guess…what I’m trying to say is…I…” Noctis went silent as the door opened, the nurse coming in to check Ignis’ vitals.

Noctis sighed, shoulders slumping. 

Another day then.

FFXV

The day they took the breathing tube out of Ignis to see if he would breathe on his own (he did, much to everyone’s joy), they caught the three men who had tried to kill him.

Noctis sat in Ignis’ room, listening to him breathe by himself, the heart monitor a reassuring rhythm. 

There was a knock at the door, and Noctis looked up as Cor and Gladio walked in.

“We caught the bastards,” Gladio said without preamble.

Noctis scrambled to his feet.

“Where are they?”

“They’re being held in separate holding cells,” Cor said. Both men looked tired.

“Have they talked?”

“Just spouting extremist nonsense,” Gladio said. “How the dawn is false and only fear and darkness lead to truth, or something like that.”

Noctis turned, looking out the small window that overlooked a street. It had been a busy street once. Now, hours could pass without a single person going down the street.

“Will there be a trial?” Noctis asked, his voice curiously flat.

Cor and Gladio traded glances.

“It was attempted regicide,” Cor said. “Generally there is no trial for that.”

“Good,” Noctis said. 

“They’ll be locked away for the rest of their lives,” Gladio started.

“I want them executed,” Noctis interrupted. 

Gladio’s mouth snapped shut, amber eyes wide. 

“Majesty,” Cor said carefully, “there are so few of us left after ten years…”

“No. They will die, and they will die publicly,” Noctis said, not turning from the window. “It will send a message. Murder, rape, fearmongering. There is no place for those things in this new world, this new dawn. There will be no mercy for those who try to kill anyone. We will not live in the dark any longer.”

Gladio swallowed. “Is this because it’s Ignis in the bed there?”

Noctis looked at him, and Gladio swore for a moment that his eyes flashed red. It was gone so quickly that he was sure he imagined it.

“No. It is because killing another human to spread fear and lies is a terrible thing.”

Cor bowed. “I will arrange it.”

“No,” Noctis said again. “I will not ask you to do what I am not willing to do. I will do it. Tomorrow. They can die facing the dawn they hate so much.”

He turned back to the window, hands clenched behind his back. Cor and Gladio bowed out of the room, shocked into silence.

The moment the door closed, Noctis wept.

FFXV

It was a bloody dawn the next day, and the steps of the Citadel ran red.

FFXV

Noctis held Ignis’ hand, trembling. 

“I…I did a terrible thing, Ignis. They caught them, the ones who escaped the park that day. I…oh gods,” he leaned over, biting back a sob. “I killed them. I killed them on the steps of the Citadel. I told Gladio and Cor it was a message to those who would spread fear and commit murders and rapes, but…I lied. I lied to them, Ignis. 

“I did it for you. They nearly killed you, and I…I’m so _angry_ that anyone would try to take you from me, so I killed them. I executed them, and I can’t…I’m not sorry. Does that make me a terrible person?”

He cried, clutching Ignis’ hand.

“I would do anything to save you, Ignis. Please. Come back to me. I need you. I…” he lifted his head, looking around. The door was closed, the heart monitor a steady beat.

“I love you.”

FFXV

One month. 

Noctis told Ignis that he loved him every day. He even pressed his lips against Ignis’ dry ones, hoping that, like a fairy tale, it would bring Ignis back to consciousness.

There had been no change.

Noctis felt a little lighter, finally having told Ignis his feelings. He knew that he had loved Ignis for as long as he could remember, but he hadn’t wanted to ruin what they had. Having Ignis near him, his other half, had been enough. Back then, when they were younger, nothing could’ve happened.

Now, well, now Noctis was king and he could love who he damn well pleased. Ignis had defied fate for him, the least Noctis could do was tell him how he felt.

Noctis rested his head on the edge of Ignis’ bed. He was so tired. He hadn’t gotten a full night’s rest since that day in the park. He usually napped in Ignis’ room. It was hell on his back and neck, but he slept better where he could hear Ignis’ heart monitor.

Where he could be certain Ignis was still alive.

FFXV

Ignis felt like he was walking up countless stairs to a distant door. Everything hurt, and breathing was hard.

He could hear Noctis talking to him. Noctis stood at that far away door, his words distant but reaching him. Ignis was determined to reach that door, to reach Noctis.

He heard everything Noctis said, and he tucked each word away in his heart.

Sometimes he thought he heard other voices, but only Noctis’ was important.

He had to rest often on his inexorable climb. He tried to yell up to Noctis that he was coming, but his voice was a bare whisper.

“I love you, Noctis,” he whispered, his voice lost in the echoes of the dark hall of his mind.

Ignis was unaware of the passage of time. He walked up those stairs, Noctis’ voice a lifeline, his love for Noctis driving him ever upward. Noctis’ voice grew clearer the closer he got to that door.

He nearly wept when he saw the door, carved with ornate images of his and Noctis’ lives. He ran those last few steps, hands pushing the door open.

Ignis opened his eyes. He blinked, eyes watering in the dim light of the hospital room. He could hear the heart monitor, and he was briefly annoyed by it. He heard another noise, a quiet snuffling sound and he slowly turned his head.

Noctis was there, hunched over the side of the bed, snoring quietly. Ignis took a moment to study his face. There was a fresh scar across his cheek, and he looked pale, but he was alive.

He remembered every word Noctis had said while he was out. His chest hurt, but it was a distant pain, an uncomfortable ache.

He squeezed Noctis’ hand, smiling slightly when Noctis let out a snort, sitting back suddenly.

Noctis blinked. What had woken him up?

His eyes focused on Ignis’ face, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw green eyes looking back at him.

“Ig…Ignis!” Noctis said, standing up in a rush.

“Noctis,” Ignis said, voice rough from disuse.

“You’re awake!”

“So it would seem,” Ignis said, coughing weakly. Oh, that hurt quite a bit.

“Sorry,” Noctis said, smoothing Ignis’ hair back. He grabbed his water bottle and helped Ignis take a sip.

Ignis sighed, smiling his thanks at his king.

“Let me grab the doctors,” Noctis said. He didn’t want to leave Ignis, but he also wanted to make sure Ignis was going to be okay.

“Wait!” Ignis said, reaching for Noctis’ hand. Goodness, but he had lost weight. His bones stuck out every which way.

Noctis turned back, searching Ignis’ face. He gently laced their fingers together as he sat back down. Perhaps the doctors could wait.

Ignis smiled weakly at him. “I heard you,” he said, voice quiet. Noctis’ eyes widened, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

“I heard you, and you led me home.”

Noctis managed a smile.

Ignis looked at him. He could see that Noctis was scared, wondering just what Ignis remembered.

“Can you say it?” Ignis whispered, hopeful, scared.

Noctis’ face broke into a smile, and it was like the sun rising.

“I love you, Ignis.”

Ignis lifted Noctis’ hand to his mouth, pressing a dry kiss against knuckles.

“That’s all I get?” Noctis said with a teasing pout. He could see Ignis’ love for him in his eyes, could hear it every time Ignis spoke to him. It was in the way he had always been there, and the way he had defied ordained prophecy to save him. His heart beat just for Ignis, and he knew Ignis’ beat for him.

Ignis tugged him closer, and Noctis leaned over. Their first kiss was tentative, a brushing of lips, chaste and honest and hopeful and full of love. (Ignis also knew his breath had taste absolutely horrid. He wasn’t going to deepen the kiss until he could get a bloody toothbrush).

Noctis pulled back, pressing one last kiss against the corner of Ignis’ mouth. They looked into each other’s eyes, and Noctis reached over and ran his thumb over Ignis’ prominent cheekbone.

“Can you say it?” Noctis whispered, patient, sure.

Ignis smiled. 

“I love you, Noctis.”

“Forever?” Noctis asked, lips quirked in a smile.

Ignis leaned into his touch, smiling at his king.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you think!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love


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